


The Perfect Whole

by adrianveidt (zephyr_lynx)



Category: A Very Potter Musical Series - Team StarKid
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyr_lynx/pseuds/adrianveidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wang Mu wakes up her daddies in the middle of the night, and they're faced with an old familiar issue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Whole

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had to read through a play that rubbed me the wrong way in almost everything and that I'm apparently supposed to accept as canon??  
> So, to cleanse my soul of The Cursed Child, I wrote some decent parenting, because I still have a lot of feelings about these three being a family.

It was the tentative knocking that yanked him out of his dreams. Quirrell had never had a particular deep sleep, and ever since they’d adopted, the slightest sound was able to wake him up.

He shuffled in the sheets, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and rose. Of course, he immediately recognized the Wang-Mu-shaped shadow lurking at the door. The mere fact that she wasn’t talking like a waterfall the way she usually did whenever she paid them a nightly visit told him immediately that something was wrong.

Quirrell gave Voldemort’s back a jab. His husband, more than used to being woken up in the middle of the night, immediately scrambled and tried to sit up. His balance was however a little thrown off by sleep, and he toppled over.

Normally, Quirrell would’ve laughed at Voldemort’s clumsiness, but right now, his focus was on their daughter, and he turned the light on his nightstand on, his eyes fixed on her.

She blinked a few times into the brightness, and he could see tears glistening in her eyes.

Quirrell stood up, throwing aside the covers in the process, and was with two steps across the room. He dropped down to his knees and put both his hands to the sides of Wang Mu’s face, his thumbs brushing tenderly over her cheeks. She tilted her head, nestling up against his touch, as if to comfort herself.

His heart got heavy seeing her so miserable, and decidedly, he picked her up, soothingly holding her in a tight embrace.

Wang Mu wrapped her little arms around his neck and buried her face in his pyjamas, sniffling softly.

“Oh, darling.” Quirrell whispered into her hair and gently kissed her temple.

He knew that since she was upset, she would start talking when she was ready, and not a second earlier. Thus, he didn’t even try to get her to tell him, and instead just stood up and carried her over to the bed.

Voldemort, sitting up straight, shot him a worried glance. Quirrell only shrugged helplessly and scrambled back next to him. He sat down, but Wang Mu refused to let him go and tightened her grip around him.

He staggered at the shifting weight, but his hand rose up automatically to protectively hold the back of her head. He then pulled her closer and rocked her to and fro, like he had done a thousandth times before, until she let go off his neck, a bit calmer, and rolled up in his arms.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight, Wang Mu?” he asked kindly.

He took the muffled “Mhmmm.” she muttered into his chest as a ‘yes’.

Voldemort next to them reached out and gently ran a finger across her cheek. Wang Mu looked up, her hand shooting up almost automatically to hold her Papa’s.

She detached herself from Quirrell’s chest and started rubbing her wet eyes with her free hand. He got the hint and slowly put her down on the bed, in the middle between him and Voldemort.

Wang Mu let go of both her daddies and insecurely twiddled with her fingers, obviously deep in thoughts. She then shuffled around and looked at Voldemort, who smiled at her despite his worries.

She tried to smile back, but her lower lip trembled, and she bit it to keep it from doing so.

“Hey, Papa.” she said, barely audible.

“Hey, you.” he answered softly, and put a hand on her shoulder “What’s going on?”

“I-I didn’t want to bother you.” she confessed, and tears welled up again “’s stupid.”

Quirrell and Voldemort exchanged a look, and the latter reached out and pulled Wang Mu onto his lap, gently cradling her. She responded by leaning her head against his chest, fingers grasping at his pyjamas.

“We’re your daddies, sweetheart. You can bother us with anything anytime, it’s why we’re here.” Quirrell said, moving closer to them.

“And I’m sure whatever upset you can’t have been stupid.” Voldemort added.

Wang Mu paused for a moment, face scrunching up. She took a decision and let out a deep breath.

“I had a nightmare. A really, really bad one.” she then said timidly.

Quirrell shot Voldemort a quick glance, but his husband was completely concentrated on their daughter, pressing a kiss into her dark hair.

“Darling, that’s the least stupid thing to be upset about.” Quirrell heard himself say, meaning every word as he redirected his gaze back to her. He still had nightmares, and they still horrified him to no ends.

“You think?” she said, not sounding convinced “Bu-but I can’t even remember what it was! I just woke up, e-everything was dark, and I just…I just felt…”

“Terrified?” Quirrell proposed. He knew the situation perfectly well. Waking up in cold sweat, fear without a cause threatening to swallow you whole, darkness engulfing you with no way in or out. One of the worst feelings in the world.

Wang Mu only nodded.

“Kiddo, look at me.” Voldemort said softly.

Quirrell smiled to himself. If there was anybody who knew how to deal with nightmares, it must be his husband. He had no idea how many times Voldemort had comforted him in the middle of the night, when the memories of Azkaban had come crashing down on him.

Wang Mu tilted her head back to look up to her Papa.

“Having nightmares is completely normal. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Voldemort said.

Wang Mu only grimaced, looking somehow disappointed in herself. “But I’m four now. I’m a big girl, I shouldn’t be scared of some dreams.”

“Wang, everybody has nightmares, no matter how young or old they are. Your Dad has them. I have them.”

“Really?” she asked, in awe at the concept.

“Yes, really.” Voldemort confirmed and bent down to press a little kiss on her nose. “And they still scare us.”

“Oh.” was everything she had to say about that. She snuggled back against Voldemort’s chest, and closed her eyes. “And what do you do about that?”

Voldemort looked up at Quirrell, a loving smile on his lips. “We comfort each other, mostly.”

Quirrell smiled back and reached out to stroke Wang’s hair. He remembered from innumerable nights that even more than Voldemort’s voice and words, the feeling of his gentle fingers running through his hair had calmed him down.

Judging from the warmth in Voldemort’s smile, his thoughts had ventured into a similar direction.

“That’s nice.” their daughter commented drowsily, obviously getting tired again. “But nightmares suck.”

“I agree whole-heartedly.” Quirrell said with a little grin.

“They’re i-di-omtic.” she declared, trying and failing to appropriate Quirrell’s way to express himself.

“Listen to her!” Voldemort exclaimed, winking at Quirrell. “All that fancy vocabulary - she totally gets that from you. And she’s only four! Imagine what it’ll be when she’s six! I’ll have to carry a dictionary at all times to understand her!”

That caused Wang Mu to giggle bemusedly, and Quirrell bit back a sigh of relief.

They lapsed into comfortable silence, Voldemort holding Wang Mu, and Quirrell running his fingers through her hair. They patiently waited for her to fall asleep, but they had severely miscalculated.

“Why do we even have nightmares?” her voice piped up again “They’re useless!”

Her eyes fluttered open again and she disconnected herself from her Papa’s chest, looking up for answers.

Said father looked at Quirrell. _May I take this?_

His husband motioned his free hand. _Be my guest._

Voldemort pulled their daughter a bit closer still.

“You know, when you sleep, your brain actually doesn’t. It’s buzzing and working, doing a hundred things at once.” he said, tapping her forehead with his finger to underline the point.

“And what _is_ it doing?”

Voldemort frowned. “Imagine…imagine it like cleaning up your room.”

A noise of disgust came from his chest, and Quirrell had to grin.

“Your brain is sorting and ordering things it knows, it processes things you lived today. It digs out memories and adds new ones. It tests out…joints in your head, to see if they work. It’s a real mess, and the result of that mess are the dreams. They’re…they’re like a mixture of everything happening in your brain while you sleep.”

“Really?” she asked.

Voldemort nodded. “Really. And sometimes, it has to work through things that scare you. They appear in your dreams, turning them into nightmares.”

“Oh. That sounds…logical.” she said, for a change using Quirrell’s fancy words right.

Voldemort looked up at Quirrell. _Her Dad’s daughter_ , he muttered soundlessly.

Wang Mu looked pensive still. “I still don’t understand why we even have fear. It’s not a nice feeling, is it? Why is it even there?”

Voldemort kissed her head again. “Well, if you think about it, there are a lot of not nice feelings that we have. But they’re there for a reason.”

He took a deep breath, and Quirrell could see the eyes darken in his serious face. Knowing what that meant, he extended a hand and let it rest on Voldemort’s arm, squeezing it lightly.

“Imagine living in a constant state of fear, and anger, and hate. They’re not nice feelings, are they?” Voldemort said thoughtfully.

Wang shook her head.

“But if they were the only feelings you had, how would you know they’re not nice?” he asked, almost lost in memories of times much darker and lonelier.

Wang Mu’s face scrunched up again as she thought about that. “You…wouldn’t?”

“You wouldn’t.” he said, and Quirrell could see the sadness and regret in his eyes “Not until you’d lived happiness and safety and love. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“I…I think?” Wang Mu said, clearly lost.

Voldemort smiled. “Wang, the bad feelings are there to show you how wonderful the good ones are. And the good ones are only so good because you know how it feels to be down. And that’s also true about dreams and nightmares. You couldn’t really appreciate the beauty of the one without knowing how terrible the other is.”

Wang Mu nodded against his chest, stifling a yawn. “Okay, now I get it. You’re really wise, Papa.”

Voldemort grinned. “I’m not, but thanks for the compliment, sweetie.”

“You’re welcome.” she muttered, cuddling up against him “’m tired.”

“Then try to sleep.” Quirrell said softly. “And if you dream badly again, we’re right beside you.”

“Thanks.” Wang Mu murmured “G'night, daddies.”

“Night.” Quirrell and Voldemort said simultaneously.

Wang Mu didn’t reply. She ran a hand over her eyes, eyes that were dry again, shuffled in Voldemort’s arms and gave a contented sigh.

Ever so slowly, she fell asleep, and her parents listened in perfect silence to her breath going steadily.

Quirrell remembered the many times they had done this when Wang Mu had just been a baby. They had watched her sleep, both in complete disbelief at this precious little life they were now supposed to care about.

He looked up to Voldemort, but his husband didn’t notice him. He was completely immersed in contemplating their sleeping daughter.

His eyes were full of tenderness, and the little smile on his lips was sweet and adoring. Voldemort looked so unbelievably vulnerable, unbelievably soft. He wore that expression only for Wang Mu, and Quirrell loved every second he could catch of it. It was the look of a man who had been depraved of a family for too long, who had never known love from his biological father, and who now looked at his own daughter like she meant the world to him, who now only wanted her to grow up safe and happy, something he’d never had for himself.

It was unconditional love that Quirrell could read in Voldemort’s features, and whenever he saw it, he felt warmth softly spreading through his whole body. It wasn’t the wild, passionate fire that had dominated the first few years of their relationship, but instead it was tame, comforting, like a hearth.

Home.

Voldemort noticed his staring after a while, and looked up to meet his gaze, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“Is something?” he whispered, careful not to wake Wang Mu up.

Quirrell looked at him for a long moment before leaning in and capturing his lips with his own. He tried to pour that comforting warmth he was feeling into it, all the love, joy and happiness their little family caused him. Voldemort responded in kind, gently kissing him back.

Quirrell pulled back, a brilliant smile blossoming on his face.

Voldemort, eyes still closed, let out a shaky breath and smiled. When he opened his eyes again, their expression had lost none of the tenderness they’d held when he’d looked at Wang Mu.

“What was that for?” he asked, voice raspier than usual. It got like that whenever he was moved, Quirrell knew that.

“What you just did…that was pretty awesome.” Quirrell said earnestly.

“Nah, it was nothing.”

Quirrell insisted. “I mean it. You’re great with her.”

Voldemort smiled softly and looked down at the little girl in his arms. “I try.”

“You succeed.” Quirrell said, refusing to accept the tinge of doubt in Voldemort’s voice.

Voldemort looked up again, eyes still tender. He reached for Quirrell’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“I love you.” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over Quirrell’s skin.

His husband smiled, deeply, genuinely. “I love you, too.”

Voldemort looked like he wanted to add something, but instead, a big yawn distorted his face, destroying their little moment.

“And _that’s_ our cue.” Quirrell said with a grin.

“Well, I’m not the one who has to get up at six to go out and teach the merits of Randy William Emmett to some meddlesome muggles.” Voldemort said, but he picked up their daughter nonetheless and cautiously laid her down in the middle of them.

“Ralph Waldo Emerson.” Quirrell corrected as he leaned over to switch off the light. Voldemort was generally terrible at remembering names, but muggle writers were the absolute downfall of his limited talents in that area.

“Whateveeer.” Voldemort drawled.

Quirrell didn’t answer. He was too busy carefully tucking Wang Mu in. She seemed to notice the motion in her sleep, because she left Voldemort’s side and rolled over, almost bumping into Quirrell.

He put an arm around her and held her close, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

Quirrell felt rather than saw Voldemort’s warm smile as his husband leaned over and tucked him in too. He felt his lips ghosting over his cheek for a moment, and then Voldemort laid back and pulled the sheets over himself. His hand came to rest on the arm Quirrell still had wrapped around Wang Mu.

It was a comfortable position, sandwiching their daughter like that, and Quirrell, a bit drowsy just from his need to sleep, looked down at Wang Mu and thought about how eerily simple the little things that make one happy can be.

“Squirrel?” Voldemort whispered into the dark.

“Mhm?”

“I’m…proud of…of us. Of how far we’re come.” Voldemort said slowly, and Quirrell understood perfectly what he wanted to say.

He remembered the first few months after Azkaban - he’d been a wreck, physically, mentally, emotionally, magically, and Voldemort had, due to the small inconvenience of having (again) been killed by a kid, not been better. It had been a time of panic, break-downs and, of course, nightmares, and any thought about the future had been absurd, because living from day to day had been difficult enough. And now, they were both lying in this bed, and their child, whom they were perfectly capable to take care of, was sleeping peacefully between them.

He smiled. “Yeah. Who thought we’d end up here?”

Voldemort huffed. “Oh man, certainly not me.” There was a pause before he continued, his tone much softer and insecure. “I…I could never have imagined _this_ back then. I was a fucking idiot. I never thought about having a family, because…well, it surely wasn’t worth the trouble.”

Quirrell squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Well, looks like you’ve got one now.”

“And it was worth all the trouble I had to go through to get you. Both of you.” Voldemort said sincerely, if a bit muffled by his pillow.

“I get you. I feel the same.”

Silence unfolded in the room, because there didn’t need to be any more words.

Voldemort hummed happily and squeezed Quirrell’s hand. “Night, Squirrel.” he said, voice heavy with sleep.

“Goodnight.” Quirrell murmured back.

“Sleep well.” Voldemort said kindly.

There was nothing to hear in the room, except for Wang Mu breathing and her Papa’s faint snoring joining in.

Quirrell looked at Voldemort’s sleeping figure and thought back at everything they’d been through, apart and together, at all that chaos and distress and misery that had somehow culminated in them finding peace and happiness. And he decided that it really had all been worth it, every moment of unhappiness in school, every second of suffering in Azkaban, every single terrifying nightmare he’d woken up from in cold sweat because it reminded him of those instances. It had all been worth it, because it had led him to this life.

“Don’t worry.” he answered, even though Voldemort couldn’t hear him anymore “I will.”

And for the first time talking about his own nightmares, he was sure of his words as he dozed off, the familiar weight of their daughter in his arms and his husband’s hand still upon his.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated, it's the first time writing these characters and I don't know if I got it right. 
> 
> This was heavily inspired by [The Parents of Wang Mu](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9399365/5/The-Parents-of-Wang-Mu), a truly amazing fic, which I read through in a night and which made me want to write them as parents.
> 
> The title is by the way taken from the poem [Each and All](http://www.bartleby.com/370/2.html) by Ralph Waldo Emerson.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can also hit me up on [my Tumblr](http://kostjalewin.tumblr.com)!


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